


Wild is the Wind

by XioNin



Series: Starman: Sander's Song [2]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, s3 ep3, sander pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 16:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XioNin/pseuds/XioNin
Summary: Robbe was right there and Sander wanted him. He wanted him.He wants.





	Wild is the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, I've added this and the previous Sander POV one-shot to a new series. To be honest, I'm not sure how many of these I'll do. We're just getting to know Sander but I find him compelling. Much like Even, much like Elliott, I want to get to know him and the best way for me to do it is this. Thanks for indulging me.
> 
> As always, you can find me on **[Tumblr](https://xionin.tumblr.com/)**  
There's also a Spotify a playlist: **[Click Here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7IooNHSRGtEeQ3RjeRQwcn?si=q1l2SYTDTVi8eQRl7lIjGA%22)**

Sander hadn’t slept in since they’d arrived. The insomnia was nothing new. He’d had a falling out with the Sandman some time ago. Had broken his hourglass, burnt the wooden frame, and let the tornadoes in his mind carry the rest away.

Last night was different. As usual, his brain wouldn’t shut up when he finally laid his head on his flat, musty pillow. He’d been sharing with Britt all week, but she was pissed at him. Again. He didn’t even know why this time, and hoped it had nothing to do with him drilling his gaze into Robbe’s on the dance floor. God. What even was that?

Without Britt in bed to distract him last night – something Sander wasn’t about to complain about – all he could do was stare up at the lines and cracks in the ceiling and think. _Obsess_ may have been a better word.

He was a creeper. Because he hadn’t been able to _stop_ thinking about Robbe. Robbe’s eyes in his, the hunger he’d seen there, the longing. The way he’d kissed Noor as if his mind were somewhere else. With someone else. With _him_.

Shit.

Even thinking about him now made Sander’s lips silently mouth the dual syllables of the guy’s name as if he could taste them.

And therein lay the problem.

Sander wanted him. They’d been playing a dangerous game since the moment they’d met, and what happened between them at the Halloween party had ramped things up to an entirely new level. Sander felt his focus shifting, narrowing down to one, chestnut-haired, sweet-smiling point.

Robbe was an enigma, a puzzle begging to be solved. Shy, until he wasn’t. Meek, until he wasn’t. He was a beautiful dichotomy of hard and soft, silent and alive. And Sander? He was intrigued. It was a rare thing.

He was also a little peeved by the way Robbe’s friends had been treating him all week. It was as if they didn’t care about his discomfort. Or maybe they were just unaware, too wrapped up in their own ego fest. Sander had known Robbe for all of a few days and even he could see there was something weighing him down.

Sander wanted to get him alone. Wanted to peel back all of his layers and see what lay underneath all the shy glances and teasing grins. So, yeah, he wanted to do more than taste Robbe. But he was a coward.

When Amber badgered him into handling the bazillion bottles that need to be recycled, Sander saw an opening he couldn't resist. A respite from the fake smiles, the kisses that tasted like sand, and the disappointing looks.

Robbe had followed along, Sander had somehow known he would. And, goddamit, Sander decided to push. He had to test the waters somehow.

He tried not to pump his fist at the less than enthusiastic way Robbe responded to his questions about Noor. She was cool and all, but…

Robbe was right there, adorable and blushing while Sander danced around the question they both knew he wanted to ask. Robbe kept ducking his eyes and - _no, don’t hide from me_ \- Sander wanted to see them. Wanted to know he wasn’t wrong about this, that what he felt wasn’t one-sided. The draw. The inexorable attraction.

Britt knew Sander and…tolerated him. Maybe even loved him in her own way. Six months was the longest anyone had ever been able to deal with his shit, which made her basically a saint. Sander was grateful for her, he was, but there had to be more to being with someone than dependency. There were kilometers between support and supervision where he thought companionship might live. Where love might reside. Sander was tired of feeling like her burden to bear but terrified, _terrified_, of being alone. Again, coward.

“What would you do, leave or stay?” _Give me a reason to be brave_, Sander thought, latching onto the idea that he might be able to pursue this flight of fancy that had kept him awake at night.

Robbe was right there. Right there. And Sander wanted to know, he had to know. _What if._

He stepped into him, his front to Robbe’s back, and reached around to grab another bit of glass. Their hands brushed together, just the slightest touch. Robbe smelled of the soap they’d all been using, and the sea breezes, and a slight tinge of masculine musk.

It had been too close, too much. He’d known it. Sander was always too much, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The heat of Robbe, so near to him, it set all of Sander’s nerve endings on fire.

He wasn’t surprised when Robbe danced away but was delighted by the flush that spread up his neck and across his sharp cheekbones. By the fact that he didn’t run away. By the quiver he heard in his voice when he spoke next.

“Just take all the positives and negatives and then…”

“Make a tally?” Sander didn’t want him to retreat. He needed to hold on to the ember of hope that sparked to life in his belly. “And if it’s negative, dump her?”

“I don’t know.”

There it was – the blush, the grin, the nervous fidgeting. The way he wouldn’t meet his eyes. And that damned lip bite. It looked a whole lot like _yes_.

Sander was transfixed. His heart thumped hard in his chest. It was cards on the table time. “Maybe I’m just scared that I’m not going to find anyone.”

Robbe’s skin flushed a deep, beautiful crimson as he rolled his eyes slightly, and a hint of a smile crossed his kissable lips. “I don’t know.”

But there was something behind Robbe’s fleeting gaze, so Sander pushed again. “At least no one who’ll love me.”

He lifted his eyes to Sander’s, searching. Everything Sander had hoped to see right there, for just a second and he, well, he realized he might be in real trouble.

“I think you will find someone like that,” Robbe was back to hiding his eyes.

“Where then?” Sander held his breath waiting for the answer.

“I don’t know.” Another shy smile. “Maybe you should meet some new people or something.”

Robbe fiddled with the bottles unnecessarily. It was fucking adorable and Sander had the sudden urge to grab his hand and run away somewhere. Anywhere.

“Like a weekend with some strangers, right?” He laughed because he knew he was being ridiculous, he knew it. And Robbe was too polite to tell him to chill the fuck out.

But the laughter died in his throat when Robbe looked at him. Unflinching. His eyes filled with something Sander had never seen before, not from him, and never directed _at_ him.

“For example, yes.” Longing, desire, hope, curiosity, whatever name it held, it stood suspended there in his gaze. He was naked in that moment, and with his courage had managed to strip Sander bare.

Robbe was right there, _right there_, and Sander wanted to be brave too. He wanted them to be brave together. He could take a chance. Right?

The universe delivered its verdict and the moment passed on an aborted kiss.

Thrown, Sander trailed Luca back to the others. Back to Britt. Back to safety. But he couldn’t help but turn for one last look at freedom, wondering if he’d ever get a taste.


End file.
